Beyond The Silent Window...

28^th July 2011

Quiet, peaceful, the view from here, from the inside, shielded by the coloured glass, decorated by the fanciest venetian blinds, the sunlight hesitating, trying to fall through the gaps, here and there, not sure if it is welcome.  Generously enough, the glass allows for a view outside, challenging my interpretations. It is a bold move, to take this challenge, since, what is beyond will not change, but what the eyes choose to see, would alter the world inside. 

That bird, high up in the sky that I see, flying in circles, peaceful...or is it hunting? Maybe I would never understand the thrill and tension of that predator, hungry, anguished, displaying its basic nature. That slight ruffle of leaves... a soft greeting or a warning of impending doom? 

Of all the stillness in the midst of these flying birds, objects move, continuously, from left to right and right to left. Are they hollow, moving on their own, directionless, clueless towards the dense mist somewhere in the east. Or are there filled with the carriers of thoughts, and life, and happiness, celebration, or vacuum? Whoever they are, carriers or non-carriers, in such variety of existence, but the directions taken by them are only two, or three at the most? No wonder the world is crowded; for these paths are forever full, and those that are hidden, rarely taken, a gigantic sign at the entrance...” do you care?” And when by mistake the answer is a “yes”, the sarcastic laughter reverberates in the emptiness of those paths, piercing through that laughter is where the interpretations of the inside come to aid. 

The world inside defines the one beyond the coloured glass, for the strength of the winds falling on the windows is immeasurable, that which is acting as a shield transforms into an enabler of ignorance. The colour of the rains is a mystery, and the one who has never stepped out to feel it would never know it from here. Those who are new, born inside would never care; but the aged, the experienced, would feel the nostalgia, the longing to move out and stand there, beyond that beguiling glass-cover.  The uneasiness would make them stare blankly into the distance, and if their insides permit, they would venture outside, fearless, and strong.

Moon talk

In the darkness and tranquillity, shielded by a layer of nothingness, you are not in the mood to show off today. Maybe it is because you are so confident that no one can ever do better than you, that no matter what, occasionally a pair of lost eyes would look at you as if looking for an answer, or maybe reassurance. But you can’t fool everyone. You won’t fool me. I see something has put you off. And I don’t blame you. In this half hearted attempt of yours, and in this disappointment of mine, we gain proximity. I tell you about the dried up fallen leaves, you tell me about the stars gone into hiding, that you miss them so. The spark and celebration; those stars borrowed by us down here. 

I have not forgotten those moments of joy when you would generously turn black into silver, when you would make us wait to catch a glimpse of you, when you know many are looking at the empty darkness up there, that you would appear like a beautiful bride to be, ready to be married away... to have a look that one last time. Today, I see your indifference, resignation; it is not a cheerful sight. You avoid my eyes, it annoys me. What is it that I do not know? No secret between you and me, I ask for a moment of trust. 

In the silence up there, you wonder while trying to read the expressions on these yelling faces next to me, sound not reaching you, I know you are amused.  But I see through that smug look, when I feel your eyes resting on me while I struggle. This pretence, impassiveness is a distraction, while you waste away to grant me that silver light, I add a drop of water in this sea next to me so that a little of it goes back to you, the silver that was yours is a part of me and a bit of you.